Ace's P.O.V

I never really realized how big a small town could be. I mean, yesterday I discovered a vibrant donut shop, and today I found out that there's a fire hydrant on Hyde Street that is almost directly in your path. The only reason why I've made that fascinating discovery is because it stabbed me in the leg and I almost went down screaming.

I was a brave soul though, so I still walked to school without hesitation. 

Yet, I have seemed to have made another observation along the way. The boy who served me yesterday in the cafe went to the same school as me.

Although, it was weird not seeing him in an apron, I still recognized his face and his glasses that were basically hanging off his nose.

I also realized that he happened to be in my math class. Third row, nearest seat to the window. I don't know how I didn't know he attended this school, I mean I sat in the first row, seat nearest to the door. I should probably pity myself because I have the observation skills of a doorknob.

I glanced at him over my shoulder as Mr. Brown lectured some guy who couldn't solve eight times six at the top of his head.

He was hunched over his notebook and scribbling something quickly. His curly hair covered his forehead, but a look of pure concentration was prominent on his face.

In all honesty, I kind of get why I didn't notice him. I mean, he's no Victoria Secret model, but he's no basket case either.

"Anyways class," Mr. Brown announced, the boy he lectured now slumping in his seat. "I believe around half of you are in german class, so that means the a good percentage of you will be gone tomorrow at the state's European Culture Fair. I believe the french and spanish students will be going along as well, so I barely have a third period anymore."

Many of the students whispered excitedly, obviously ecstatic that they got to miss school for a whole day. Instead, they were going to party in Little Rock and eat all the food money could buy.

"Just so you know, I'll just be playing a movie tomorrow, so y'all won't miss anything," he informed while trying to straighten out our homework papers. "However, I have posted a review exercise on the school's website that I am expecting you all to do."

The dismissal bell rang and he shooed us away. A mob of people ran to the door, and I tried to fight through the crowd to Mr. Brown's desk.

"Excuse me," I mumbled to him. He was currently grading quizzes and I saw him mark about ten of the eighteen questions wrong on a person's paper.

He looked up at me, surprised. A wide smile covered his face and he motioned for me to sit down. 

"Mr. Vanderbilt, what can I do for you?" He asked.

"Um," I stuttered, trying to string together my words. "I was wondering, tomorrow, is there anything I can do that could possibly raise my grade?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the same doughnut shop boy writing in his spiral notebook.

Mr. Brown cleared his throat. "Mr. Vanderbilt, I know you're currently at a 80.07%, but I don't offer extra credit, I'm sorry. You still have a B though, and it'll be quite easy to raise it to an A, as long as you did well on the quiz." He pointed to a stack of papers on his desk. "And if you complete tonight's homework along with tomorrow's and get a good grade, I can guarantee you that your grade could be raised to a high B. Do that for one more homework paper, then you'll definetly be at an A."

I nodded in understanding, trying to mask my disappointment. 

He smiled again. "Now, I believe you want to go to lunch, so farewell." He waved and I took that as my cue to leave.

The donut shop boy was gone, and I didn't see or hear him leave. I quickly left the room and headed to the cafeteria.

I sat down next to my best friend, Lux, who was currently shoveling some soup in his mouth. He shot a wide smile at me and started talking animatedly to another guy across the table.

I only caught words like 'rain' and 'the big game' so I presumed they were talking about baseball practice. 

Tapping my foot, and looking around casually, I caught sight of a face of freckles and a head of dark hair. Even though we broke up five months ago, I couldn't help but choke everytime I saw her.

Her onyx eyes were still piercing, still hard. They weren't calming and reassuring like they were when we were a thing. They were like diamonds, beautiful, but unbreakable.

She seemed to not notice my staring, but was listening to her friend, Samaira, who was talking to her through bites of her salad.

I sighed silently. She still hasn't forgiven me, and tension has built up between us. We were still in the same friend group and both of us were too stubborn to leave, so we had to sit and drown in the pools of forced friendship.

I glanced around the cafeteria again, and spotted a head of dark, curly hair. He was in a seat by the window, talking to a girl with blonde hair and sharp eyes.

They were a contradicting pair, in my opinion. Brielle Machacek was a generally unfriendly girl. Shrewd, and ambitious, although ruthless and brutually honest at the same time.

Although, with all the years I've seen and silently observed her, she was never a hot-headed person. She kept her cool, but when she burst it was like Mount Vesuvius exploding over Pompeii.

I was forced to meet her by my mother because I kept kicking a ball around the house. She told me to kick the ball outside with the girl across the street or help her clean the kitchen.

In all honesty, I did kind of like cleaning, but my mother seemed to be in quite a snip snappy mood that day so I hurried outside. 

Even though I wasn't the bravest of people, I walked up to the doorstep without hesitation because I was in desparate need of a friend.

A woman with light blonde hair answered the door, and all of that bravery disappeared at an instant. First of all, she looked like she could kill three people and two reptiles with a single glare. Second of all, she was glaring at me.

I remember a girl with the same pointed look as her mother and a lacy dress popped up like a gopher by her side. I thought she was actually kind of pretty, but she was staring at me with a kind of dead look in her eyes, so I probably started sweating.

Yet, when I asked if she would like to play outside with me, she replied with a simple yes. 

But when she came outside, my ball became abandoned because she was heading towards the small pond that was hidden behind a bunch of trees. 

I followed her mindlessly, still slightly desparate for any type of friend. She didn't speak to me the whole way, which I found quite awkward as the silence wasn't exactly comfortable.

When she stopped at the edge of the pond, she asked me a question that I still today can't even really answer. "Can I trust you?" 

Now normally, people would probably respond with some type of "yes," but not me. I tend to blurt things out under pressure, and I'm not sure if I could be trusted with anybody's deepest darkest secrets.

Her piercing glare stared me down though, and even though we were both eight at the time, it still scared me senseless. It was icy and chills literally went down my spine. It was what made me give her a meek "yes" though.

"Bernadette Williams called my mother a whore yesterday. She told me that since my mother has had four husbands, it's inappropriate." Even though her tone was harsh, at the time I could still see that she was a bit sad. "She told me that I wasn't pretty too. She said maybe if I wiped the ugly witch stare off my face, maybe I would actually be nice looking." 

Her face flushed a light shade of pink, and her brows furrowed. "She also told me I dressed weird." She tugged at the end of the lacy dress. "She told me that I look like I came out of the 1920s, and maybe I should go buy some new clothes if I want anybody to like me."

Small tears welled in her eyes and my eight year old self stepped closer to her. I wasn't sure what to do at the time, because I've never really comforted a crying person. But seeing a girl who I knew would probably not shed a tear, even if it saved her life, be on the verge of tears really upset me.

"And I overheard Maria say that I was mean and weird and that I think I'm better than everyone else." A small tear slipped down her face. "But I don't think that. I just want one friend, kind of," she whispered.

"I-i think you're, you're um pretty," I stuttered. I was kind of regretting my decision until she looked up at me.

Her face was slightly tear-stained and a light flush covered her pale skin, but her eyes were shining and a small smile graced her face. 

A look of sudden determination crossed it though, and then I regretted my decision. Because the last time she had that face on she basically slaughtered a bunch of students at the Science Fair. Her project was so good, that 5th graders hung their head in shame. 

"I'm hoping to catch a snake here," she informed me while peeking in several bushes. "Bernadette is scared of snakes so if I could find one, I could really give her a fright."

She turned around to look at me, her eyes shining in mischevious glee. I however was frozen to the ground, a bit scared.

"I was going to push her off the monkey bars," she told me a little dejectedly. "But my mom said they wouldn't let me bring my cat to prison."

Now, I'm pretty sure that people's first encounters with many people tend to not be like this. But I've never been on such a thrilling emotional rollercoaster in my life.

I glanced pack at Brielle who was wearing a white shirt, black jeans, and flats, along with a black blazer and a triumphant look on her face. From what I heard, the senior AP English teacher said that everybody's essays were a "tragic form of proving your self worth to a person who could possibly determine your future within the art of english" or basically, they all sucked ass. Apparently though, Brielle got an A+ on the essay, and by looking at her, I can't say I believe the rumor was false.

My eyes drifted to a circular table near one of the cafeteria corners that was inhabited by creatures of the night. Or in other words, Bernadette Wilson, Maria Lamos, and three other rat looking girls.

Now, I'm not one to judge a person by their looks, but the gap in between Bernadette Wilson's two front teeth looks like a coin slot. And Maria Lamos kind of looks like Mike Wazowski.

A flurry of movement caught my eye, and I saw doughnut shop boy and Brielle get up out of their seats and head to the exit.

A sudden sensation washed over me during those seconds though. I might just drop by that doughnut shop tonight.

1989 WORDS